


The Liuqin

by jasmine_jules



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Familial Love, Gen, Zuko (Avatar) is an Idiot, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko joins the gaang, and apparently zuko playing an instrument makes me feel things, he just wants love and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmine_jules/pseuds/jasmine_jules
Summary: Zuko joins the Gaang at the Western Air Temple, and he's brooding and silent until Smellerbee finds something that brings up feelings from his past, the good kind of feelings, and suddenly he's not so silent anymore.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	The Liuqin

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Avatar fic, and I actually wrote it for a writing challenge on Tumblr called Love is in the Air. The prompt this is based off of is familial love, guitar, golden, first. I had so much fun writing this, and to be honest, it made me emotional. I think I may have found a new hobby - writing avatar fanfics :)

“Guys! Guys!” Smellerbee’s frantic voice echoes through the cavernous hallway of the Western Air Temple, “Look what I found!” She exclaims and almost skids around the corner as she runs towards the Gaang around the firepit.

In her hands, a Liuqin, an instrument that Zuko is achingly familiar with. Shamefully so, a quiet voice whispers in his mind, one that sounds aborhently like his father’s. One that finds any interest in something other than the path of war and conquest disgusting and something to hide away in the dark, never to be spoken of.

Not for the first time, he’s thankful he’s sequestered further from the campfire than the rest of the teenagers, so he can hide his reaction in peace, and not have to deal with the question that could follow. 

“Ohhh, do you know what it is?” Of course it’s Sokka’s voice that is the first to answer, always curious about everything. The planner and the strategist of the team, though as far as Zuko could tell, it was hard for him to be too serious about anything. 

“I’ve seen ‘em around,” Haru says, “but I’ve heard that only the upper-ring in Ba Sing Se get to learn anything about them. It’s called a…” he trails off, “luishing? Lichen? Maybe? I can’t remember, exactly.”

“Cool,” Aang joins in, “I’m gonna try to play it.” He grabs the Liuqin determinedly from Smellerbee’s hands, holding it close to his body and plucks at the strings. Zuko tries to hold back from physically cringing at the sound as he watches Aang’s hands pulling at all the wrong spots on the strings. 

“Aang! Stop! There’s no way it’s that hard to play, I mean it only has four strings? Gimme,” Sokka nabs it away from Aang, thankfully stopping the dreadful sounds coming from Aang’s fingers, but starts right up on his own. 

“Okay, enough.” Katara’s mom voice breaks through the flat and sharp notes that all mesh together in one awful noise, “Let’s give it a day, and maybe one of you will learn it in your dreams or something, and go to sleep. It’s late.” 

“Fine,” Sokka mumbles, mournfully setting the Liuqin down near the fire, “Good night everyone!” 

Goodnight’s chorus from around the campfire as everyone makes their way to their respective sleeping area.

“Goodnight, jerk.” Sokka throws over his shoulder as he walks away, Zuko jolts his head up, surprised anyone actually said anything to him on their way out, even if it was in a form of jaded words, and he’s further thrown off when Sokka continues,

“And… I guess thanks for joining us at the fire tonight, I know it’s still weird being here with us, even if you ended up suspiciously far away. Especially from the fire! I mean, don’t you love fire? Cause… you’re a firebender?” he stammers awkwardly, struggling to find the end of his sentence.

“Uhh, yeah… no problem.” Zuko’s hand finds the back of his neck, an unavoidable nervous tick he somehow accumulated since he’s been here, “Goodnight.” he finally finishes. 

Sokka dips his head, almost as if to hide the small smile that Zuko’s reply caused, and walks down the darkened hallway towards his room. 

Zuko waits as long as he can after Sokka leaves, hoping that everyone will have fallen asleep, before he gives into the urge that had gotten too strong to ignore, and sweeps the Liuqin off the cold, stone floor. His fingers fall right into place as the instrument slots right into place, the rounded edge on the bottom sitting comfortably on his legs and the triangle shaped top resting just below his chin on his shoulder, like it hasn’t been almost a decade since he touched one. He lets the pads of his fingers rest on the strings, attempting to prod at his memory on how to play it correctly. His eyes fall closed as the patterns and melodies come back to him, his mother’s face swimming just behind the music that sings sweetly from the instrument as his fingers start to move of their own volition.

He starts to hum quietly along with the tune, the quiet, melancholic notes softly encouraging him to play the song like it’s meant to be played.

“Falling so slow, like fragile tiny shells. Little soldier boy…” Zuko continues to hum, the words unable to find their way past the lump forming in the back of his throat, this time not only his mother’s golden eyes finding their way through the music, but his Uncle’s as well, “comes marching home…” 

Contrary to the mournful mood the song put him in, an uncontainable smile finds its way onto his face as he finishes, and his lips curve upward, the skin on the left side of his face pulling at the unfamiliar motion. He opens his eyes as the echoes of the music falls silent, and his gaze lands on the soft, glowing embers of the fire. He breathes deeply, pushing his inner flame out and relights the fire, giving the muted licks of flame the energy to grow.

A shadow startles from across the chamber from behind a pillar, and the flames of the campfire catch the shape with their light before it is able to scurry away

“Sokka?” Zuko rasps out, “Is that you?” 

Sokka’s sheepish grin falls out from behind the pillar as he makes his way back over to Zuko, 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you. I just had to use the bathroom, and I heard you and well… I just couldn’t bring myself to leave before the song finished.” 

“Uh… yeah. I’m just gonna-” Zuko turns to leave, setting the Liuqin down as fast as he can without being too harsh on the fragile instrument.

“No! Don’t, please. I’m sorry, I’m the one who should go. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Sokka moves to walk away, and pauses, “Your playing is beautiful, though.” Sokka tags on and something in Zuko’s gut tinges at the words. He struggles to identify the feeling, reluctance?

Strange, it’s the first time he hasn’t wanted someone to not leave him alone in so long, and that someone doesn’t actively want him dead, and doesn’t want him for some nefarious reason, only that the music was pretty.

“Stay?” The word slips through his guarded walls before he could even think, the flames of the campfire now covering the entire room in a soft red, reminding him of home. 

“Obviously, but only if you tell me about it.” Sokka smirks, and sidles his way to the fire and makes himself comfortable.

“It’s called a Liuqin, and it’s mainly used for playing simple folk songs, at least it is back home. My mom taught me how to play…” Zuko talks, and he doesn’t stop letting Sokka indulge in every question and every story that comes to light that night until he feels the spark of the sun start to rise, this time filling the room golden.


End file.
